Friday, August 15, 2014

It was a sad beginning to this week, the announcements of Robin Williams' death. Among the many tributes, statements, and video clips I've read and watched, I think the one of most poignant comes from this quote by David Foster Wallace about suicide:

“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”

Certainly, the depths that depression and mental illness reaches cannot be underestimated. I do hope that amid the sadness and shock of Williams' death comes a greater awareness of, and compassion for, mental illness and the havoc it can wreak on an individual.

To the mighty and talented Robin Williams, I hope you're resting in peace. Finally.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Yes, yes, I know that Sex on the Beach, the second book in the Cocktail Cruise series, just released. But I'm busy at work on the third and final book in the series, Between the Sheets, where single mother Andrea and dance instructor Sebastian get their romance (finally!). Want to see a peek inside one of the early scenes?

Her cabin was twice the size of
his, with a sliding glass door that led to a balcony. Precioso. So beautiful. He stood for a minute looking out into the
black. She closed the door and slipped off her shoes, silver sandals with
buckles that glittered. She sank onto the small loveseat and stretched out her
toes. “I don’t have anything fancy to offer you to drink,” she said with a
little laugh. “I think there’s bottled water or cold sodas in the fridge,
though.”

“It is fine. I do not want
anything.” Sebastian picked up the television remote. “May I? There is music on some
of the channels. Good for relaxing.”

She nodded. “Go ahead. I don’t
even know what’s on.”

He found a station playing soft
Latin music, the one he sometimes listened to before bed.

Her head dropped back on the
loveseat. He remained standing where he was. “Do you like working here?” she
asked.

“I’m not –” What was she really
asking? Women, American women especially, always seemed to have a second or
third meaning in their words. Did he like the guests? The captain? His actual
job of teaching three or four classes a day to people who didn’t know the
difference between the cha cha and the mambo?

“I know you said it was a good
change for you.” She opened her eyes again. “But what do you really think?
You’ve been on board – how long? Almost a year?”

He nodded.

“What do you think we could
change? What would make people happier?”

Ah,
happiness. “I am
not sure I am the best person to answer that question.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only that I am still trying to
figure it out myself. True happiness, what it means, where it comes from. How
to find it again after it disappears.”

She looked at him for a long
minute, saying nothing. Her eyes shifted to the television, where a blue line
zig-zagged across the screen as the music played. “That is nice,” she said. “I
don’t know what it is, but you’re right. It’s soothing.”

He hesitated a moment, then held
out one hand. "Would you like to dance?"

"Here?" She looked
around. “Is there enough room?”

"Does not take much.” He
smiled. “I do know this: happiness for me comes when I am dancing. When there
is music in my soul, when my feet can move, then nothing else matters.”

She stood, her bare toes peeking
out from beneath her dress. “Well, how can I turn down an offer like that?” She
took his hand. “I have to tell you, though, except for this morning, when you
were showing me the tango, I haven’t danced in years.” She blushed, and her
fingers tightened around his. “I mean, I haven’t danced with anyone.”

“It’s nothing. It’s like – what
do you Americans say? Like riding a bicycle. You do not forget. It is like
breathing." His free hand went to the small of her back. "Let me
lead."

A worry line appeared between her
brows, and her spine stiffened. He shook her fingers to loosen them. It had
been forever since he'd taught a private lesson, since he'd had a woman who
looked more concerned about where to put her feet than trying to peel off his
clothes. It felt good. Refreshing.

The music changed, and the tempo
picked up. He smiled and nodded to himself. They could move easily to this one.
But three beats into the song, Andrea turned fire-engine red. She froze, her
hand gripping his as though she were balancing on a two-inch ledge. “I’m sorry.
I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He pressed his palm into the small
of her back. “Just follow. Try to relax.”

Her lips parted in a breathless
laugh. "I'm not sure the last time I actually did that. I might not
remember how."

The song changed again, and he
improvised a few dance steps, just to put some space between them. At that, she
smiled, and turned on her tiptoes in the small cabin, mimicking his motion. Ay dios mio, he had a hard time looking
away from her. “See? You are very much a good dancer.” She twirled again, only
this time she stumbled a little at the end – straight into him.

Two people who’ve always played at love discover the stakes are higher when
they let down their guard and open their hearts…

Cassidy
Arnez is an elementary school teacher with an enormous secret: a sexually
adventurous online life that she leads under a foolproof alias. Her motto has
always been to enjoy sex and the single life as much as possible. With a
deadbeat dad and a brother who died in combat, she knows she can’t rely on any
man to stick around.

Bryce
Anderson enjoys his bachelor life as the CFO of a major cruise line, a position
that gets him all the sun, sand, and women he could want. But he meets his
match in Cass, who’s even less interested in commitment than he is, and her
casual, confident sexuality turns him on more than anyone he’s ever met.

When
a financial crisis at Cass’s school places her, and her coveted secret
identity, at the center of a small town firestorm, she must decide whether
she’ll let Bryce become the first man she’ll trust with both her secrets and
her heart.

Excerpt

Bryce
ran the back of one hand down her bare arm as he leaned over to flag the
bartender. Electricity shot all the way up to Cass's shoulder, and something
deliciously warm and familiar tingled between her legs. She brushed his
shoulder as she reached for her drink, telegraphing a message that registered
in the light of his eyes.

He
took a long swallow of his beer, then rested one elbow on the bar and turned
toward her. Two inches, maybe one, separated them. She could smell him. If she
leaned forward, she could probably taste him. And damn, but that mouth looked
like it would know what to do on a woman’s body.

He
clutched his chest as if she’d shot him. “Was it that bad?” The corner of his
mouth quirked up. “I thought it had flair.” He touched the neck of his beer
bottle to her glass. “Women like flair.”

Cass
crossed one leg over the other and let her dress ride up. “Flair is
over-rated.” She ran her fingers through her hair, loose and falling past her
shoulders. “It takes more than that to win a girl over.” A nice ass will do, though, she thought. Good smile and wit helped too,
and so far Bryce was three for three, though she wouldn’t tell him that.

“Decided
to take the free cruise?”

“I
did.”

“How’s
your friend Louise?”

“She’s
fine. Spends a lot of time with Toby, but I’m guessing you already know that.”
She sipped her martini. “What about your buddy? The one from the bachelor
party? He get married yet?”

“Yep.
Valentine’s Day.” He cocked his head when she didn’t answer. “I take it you're
not a fan?”

“Of
marriage? Or Valentine’s Day?” Not either
one, she wanted to say. She set her
glass down after another sip. “Thanks for the drink. But I think I’ll be
going.” First conversations never needed to last longer than a few minutes.
She’d leave him wanting more...